Territorial Dogs
by Kuro49
Summary: Mystery POV. Shizu/Iza. Both of them would have rather eat dirt then kiss those lips. But in the end, they did what the Ikebukuro’s situation called for.


My first attempt at DRRR!! I am in love with this series, head over heels so I had to contribute to its beyond small fandom. It needs more love, Shizu-chan and Izaya-kun needs more love (for each other.) ;P

I don't own.

XXX

**Territorial Dogs**

XXX

As much as I hated to admit, this was a love story.

One twisted beyond recognition.

But it was still love nonetheless.

000

The things he threw always came before the actual person.

It was broad daylight in Ikebukuro.

And Orihara was on the ground, black figure against grey concrete. He shoved the bended metal of the vending machine to the side and stood up, eyes glinting just as blonde hair came into view.

"Violent Shizu-chan." He muttered, mouth curling into a tight smile, stiffing with well-contained anger.

"I-zay-ya~kun…"

That familiar tone of voice drawled out, a low smooth honey that made everything slick.

He stood up and took a step back, the other stepped forward and the space between them remained a constant. It was a conflicting situation, close the gap or run the other way and as used to the chase as the two of them were, things always felt the same.

This time it was no different.

Shizuo's hand was wrapped around a stop sign, fingers flexing over the metal pole as he let out a puff of smoke from between his lips.

"Didn't I tell you to stay out of Ikebukuro?"

Izaya smirked at the question and took a few easy steps backwards, a taunt to the way he moved. "Is that any way to greet an old friend, Shizu-_chan_?"

Shizuo could feel his temple throbbing, a sign of irritation, a sign of seeing that man again. The systematic symptoms came over him again, like a well practiced procedure that he had no control over.

The knitting of those brows, the sneer on those lips and that white knuckle grip Shizuo had kept on himself. It was a leash that stopped him from uprooting Ikebukuro from the map of Japan all together.

"It is Shizuo!" And then he lashed out.

000

It was emphasis.

From their school days till now, it was all for the sake of personal sanity.

Because as much as Orihara Izaya loved the human race, he needed a balance between love and hate.

And as much as I hated to say, he got his feelings flipped around.

000

There was no mercy, no care for wounds or pain because when things came down to this, it was never self-defence but attack and fend attacks with offence. A constant game of push, push, push until the other opponent ate dirt.

Izaya pulled out his switchblade and with a habitual twist of his wrist, the metal flipped out from its protective casing.

Shizuo tore the stop sign from its concrete roots.

"But Shizu-chan just flows off of the tongue!"

As the words left his lips in a playful counter, he took off running, down the familiar streets as the sun remained in the sky.

The stop sign, a glaring red, sailed through the air.

Izaya considered himself to be a people's person. Otherwise, he could have never come face to face with the information he sold out to all sorts of people. Ikebukuro was like the back of his hand and each street was a vein that still hadn't surfaced to the skin.

He wasn't just self-claimed; he _was_ Ikebukuro's know-it-all.

But when he was alone in an alleyway or Kanra in the chat room, he knew that he didn't know everything about Ikebukuro.

Because if he did, there would be no fun.

And he wouldn't be head over heels for every man and woman that he passed by on the streets.

He didn't see it but it hit him straight on, metal against the flat of his back, the impact was nothing like he had remembered. The last time he came face to face with Shizuo, he had taken out his switchblade but by the time he landed the first blow on the other, they were almost in Shinjuku.

There was no blood but pedestrians backed off at the sight, fear gleamed in their eyes, and whether it was for him, the one down on the ground, or for themselves, the bystanders that wanted nothing to do with their chase, it really didn't matter because their relation was as thin as strings.

"Shizu-_chan_." He staggered to stand up right. The pain was spreading along his nerves and each strand of muscles was absorbing the contact. The piercing glare in those dark eyes could compare with the blade in his hand and it flashed dangerously in the sun.

"Didn't I tell you not to step foot in Ikebukuro again, Izaya." Shizuo repeated himself as he tilted his head, hands in his pockets before he sauntered over, soles of his shoes scrapping against the concrete ground. He took the cigarette from between his lips and added, "-kun?"

Izaya chuckled as he slashed at the air.

Dropping it, Shizuo stubbed out his cigarette on the ground.

"Of course, but it gets awfully lonely in Shinjuku when there is only me."

He kicked off, razor edge aiming straight for the throat. There was no hesitation, just an intention to hurt.

An eye for an eye. The fist was directed to break a few ribs or so because they never stopped at the count of one. The inhuman force brought back memories of past encounters and pain wracked bodies. Izaya knew the two of them were running after the other in a circle, a cycle that never ceased to stop.

Because neither of them knew just when to quit.

000

Find, spot, hunt.

It came as second nature.

Heiwajima Shizuo had long since decided that it was all for revenge.

I would never say this out loud but he was dead wrong.

000

His back hit the ground.

The sun was in his eyes.

Until dull blonde came into his line of vision and took over everything else that he would rather see.

"Izaya~kun."

That name sounded overly familiar as it crawled into his ears and it was terribly unpleasant as realization dawned on him.

Orihara did not smoke because he hated the smell of burning nicotine, each and every time, the tobacco would linger behind without a shred of mercy, like a hand that refused to let go at the throat.

There were fingers wrapped around his neck.

Fingers grimed with nicotine stains that dug into the flesh. Izaya let out a soft gasp, an attempt for a disappearing breath, his hand unconsciously loosening against the blade he held.

The smell of cigarettes was overwhelming, a pounding proof of that man's existence. He couldn't forget.

"Iza—"

(As much as we would like to brush it off,) this was a love story.

He leaned up and took the other by surprise.

It wasn't love. (Or so they have convinced themselves.)

And so naturally, it wasn't a kiss either.

It was a bite to the lips.

His name came out two thirds of the way.

And it hurt.

Shizuo pulled back in reflex, hand tightening around the throat out of instinct. But it was enough for Izaya as his hand tightened around the switchblade and with a quick flick of his wrist; it slashed a clean swipe into the black bartender vest.

Only, it wasn't enough.

Orihara pulled himself up from the ground with a small scoff at his lips, his hand was nursing his neck and the red handprint at his throat was quite obvious beneath the sun. His eyes ran over the other, there was a clean cut into the vest and white dress shirt but it just wasn't enough to graze the skin.

He was disappointed, through and through.

But the sight of the glare he received from behind those sunglasses was enough to bring a smirk to his lips.

His fingers worked the blade and it twirled effortlessly in his hand, Orihara looked up and they were looking straight at each other.

Izaya's smirk widened as he slid his hand down from the throat to rest at his collarbones, showing off the impressive grip that the other had on him. The taunt fell from his lips without any sort of consideration for the crowd. "Is this the repay I get for giving you my first kiss?"

"I."

"Za."

"Ya!"

Those three syllables were gritted from between his teeth.

There was not even a hint of hesitation as the punch came, Shizuo's eyes narrowed, his swing caught air and the menace left him cold. He could still see the short crop of black hair and the pale neck that he had just held in his hand.

"See you around, Shizu-chan!~"

But by the time he could register the realization, Izaya had already tore off the other direction, weaving through the crowds before disappearing into the traffic of the Ikebukuro streets.

A chuckle came his way and it was that same lingering promise that never ceased to fade. The start of another endless cycle of push, push, push, make-you-eat-dirt kind of game.

One that could wait as Shizuo pulled out a fresh cigarette from the box, mind solely set on getting rid of the bitter tinge of Izaya's mouth on his.

XXX Kuro

I can't wait to see ep. 6, Shizu's POV!! As I said, they need more love. Majorly.


End file.
